


An Injured Body and a Hurt Pride

by Felyneve



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Gen, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5903149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felyneve/pseuds/Felyneve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "I´d like to ask you, if you could write a story about Eric from Divergent? Something like he got seriously injured an need help on every little thing and you as a nurse help him and you both fall in love?" Eric/Reader, enjoy guys!</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Injured Body and a Hurt Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Eric nor the Divergent world is mine. If you want to submit a prompt or see more of my work, head over to my Tumblr, there's a link in my bio. :)

Eric wasn’t a pleasant man to be around. The fact that he was injured to the point that he was on bed rest didn’t make it easier. He was quick to anger, and if he did speak, it was nothing but harsh comments. One could swear his scowl had been tattooed onto his face.

He had been shot twice, right beneath his collarbone. His right leg and side covered in third degree burns from an explosion that had evidently gone off right beside him. Bruce, the only other man with him at the time of the explosion, had a burn that covered the right side of his face. They had been the only two there at the time, and got the brunt of the explosion. Eric should’ve been grateful to be alive, he could have died, but the only thing that seemed to concern him right now is that he had been assigned a nurse to ensure he stayed in bed on rest, and that nurse was you. 

He was glaring at you now, tongue at the ready to fire another insult at you as you changed the bandages on his leg. You didn’t look at his face as you did this, you never did. You just become emotionless and asked yourself why your boss had assigned you to the Dauntless leader. What had you done to deserve this punishment? 

You were annoyed with him, too. It wasn’t like you wanted to be stuck there, taking care of his angry ass, but you didn’t have a choice. Sometimes his words cut deep, telling you that you had no idea what you were doing, asking himself how he got stuck with such an idiotic nurse. You just shrugged it off. 

His leg jerked under you as you began to rewrap it. “Why couldn’t they have sent me a nurse that actually knows what the fuck she’s doing?”

You slammed down the bandages still in your hands, frustration bubbling up inside you. You had dealt with this for long enough.

****“Well, if you think you deserve better, why don’t you do it yourself, you selfish son of a bitch?” You snarled at him, taking pleasure in the sudden shock that came over his face. “I’m done with dealing with your angry ass, and I’m not going to deal with it anymore. Good luck getting your meds, changing your bandages, and going piss.”

You whirled around, grabbing your bandages and the medications you were going to give him when you were done, storming towards the door to grab your bag and go. Your skin burned with anger. He didn’t even deserve a replacement nurse.

“Wait!” You didn’t even stop at the tone of his voice. “Y/N!”

You did stop that at that. You didn’t even think Eric knew your name, he’d never called you by it. Your hand was on the doorknob, and you didn’t reply, waiting to see if Eric was going to say something. He was silent for a long while, and you didn’t look back at him, and your patience having run out. You started to turn the knob and he finally continued, his voice thick, like he didn’t want to say what he had to.

“I need your help.”

You smirked to yourself as you stared at the dark wood of his door, before wiping it off your face and turning around to return to the treatment of his leg. Eric scowled at the wall for once instead of you, refusing to meet your eyes. His pride was damaged enough by his injury, and his admission made it no better. You didn’t make a comment, and you’re sure Eric was relieved that you didn’t.

* * *

 

He didn’t insult you much anymore after that. He didn’t use your name again, but it reassured you to know that he at least knew what it was. He had now elected to stay silent when you cleaned his injuries, ensuring that nothing was getting infected.

He talked here and there occasionally. Mostly small talk, or responding when you asked how something felt. His tattooed grimace was slowly disappearing over the days, and gave way to an exhausted man. His eyes had bags under them, and his mouth was turned down with weariness.

“Can I get up today?”

He mumbled it, looking away from you. He didn’t like having to ask any questions like this, or talk about it. He saw it as wounding his pride.

“Maybe,” you replied with a shrug. “I’ll have to see how your leg is healing.” He gave you a nod and raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, and something happened that you had never seen before, nor expected out of the leader.

His lips twitched, so faintly and quickly you weren’t entirely sure it had happened. Eric gave you a smile. You refrained from biting your lip, or grinning back, so instead you gave him a small smile and a nod of your own.

* * *

 

Eric was getting better. His recovery rate was astounding. He was now able to walk, leaning against you of course, around the apartment. Though it was limited, you didn’t want him walking much at all, you allowed him to come out to the couch during the day at the very least.

You were in the middle of making dinner, and you could feel his stare. He’d been watching you a lot lately, and you certainly had noticed. He was trying to be discreet about it, so you never made a comment on it. You stirred the creamy noodles of your alfredo, plating it when you deemed it done.

The food was hot, and you gently set it down on Eric’s coffee table before sitting beside him. You smiled to yourself when he stabbed at it cautiously. Your last attempt at chicken alfredo, no more than a week ago, was when you were still trying to figure out Eric’s kitchen, and you had managed to burn the outside of the entire thing, but have the inside still as raw as when you pulled it out of the package. The noodles and the chicken were practically black. You decided to try your hand at cooking on Eric’s stove again.

You took a little bite of your own, finding it satisfying, and definitely not burnt. Eric glanced over to you, an eyebrow raised. “It isn’t raw?” You smiled and shook your head and he finally gave in, taking a small bite before a look of contentment flashed across his face, obviously happy he isn’t going to have to eat anything that was charred to a crisp, or still bleeding. You both ate in silence, you weren’t ever really a talker, but Eric didn’t seem to mind.

When he was finished, his plate clean, he set the it down again on the coffee table and looked over at you, his subtlety gone for the time being. His eyes were filled with thoughts, and finally, after moving his mouth a little bit in an effort to form words, his tongue translated his them.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet, and you had a feeling he wasn’t just thanking you for dinner. You nodded your head, stood up, and took your plates to the sink, not making another comment.  

* * *

 

You were changing the bandages on his side when he grunted in pain, one of the first times you actually heard some noise of pain come from him, and you decided you didn’t like the sound, nor was it a good thing.

The skin from his hip to the side of his ribs was the worst of the burns. Here it got to a very serious third degree, bordering on fourth degree, and you usually did these bandages when he was high on medication to try and cause the least amount of pain as possible, but today he had insisted on waiting until you were done with all of them.

He was most likely regretting this decision now you decided, as you spread ointment lightly over the red and blackened skin, clean gauzes on the bed beside you. Eric gasped slightly, gritting his teeth to try and keep himself from crying out entirely.

“It’s okay to be in pain,” you murmured softly as you pulled your hands back, prepared to apply a little more ointment and then the dressings. You knew he probably wasn’t going to listen to you and let himself cry out, or complain.

He surprised you when you saw him nod a little out of the corner of your eye. “Is there a way you could be gentler?” He gritted out.

“I’m being as gentle as I can be. We’re almost done.”

He nodded again and laid his head back, trying to keep his body relaxed as he clenched his eyes shut, grunting aloud when you did a last once over before wrapping his side up in the white cloth.

You stood when you were done, gently patted his good shoulder after placing his painkillers on the nightstand, and turned to leave. You slept downstairs in his guest bedroom, while he stayed in his huge loft, carved into the rock of the apartment.

“Y/N?” He whispered, voice sounding weighed down. “Would… Would you like to stay in here tonight?”

You stopped and turned your head, eyes filled with curiosity. Eric didn’t meet your eyes, his jaw set, looking cautious. Your face softened as you replied, “With you?”

He gave you a single nod, and you smiled.

You had never slept so soundly in a cocoon of warmth as you had that night, your body curled around his carefully, your head against his chest.

* * *

 

You stayed in his bed against him every night after that, your body fit snugly against him, and neither of you complained.

The first time he kissed you was unexpected. You had been cleaning his two bullet wounds, his face turned towards you. He stared at you through the entire process and when you finished, he suddenly leant forward, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth before pulling back just as quickly, leaving you to wonder if he had even actually done it.

You stared at him, eyes wide with shock. He continued to stare back, gauging your reaction. You moved forward before you could think twice, kissing his lips firmly. He tensed under you, and his hand moved to the back of your neck, the other cupping your cheek, his muscles slowly relaxing.

Eric pulled back first, licking his lips, his eyes swirling with an emotion you couldn’t read before it was gone, and his lips quirked up again faintly. He’d smiled at you six times now, and small butterflies flitted around your stomach.

You weren’t going to deny that Eric was a handsome man. He was big, his entire body roped with thick hard muscle. After tending to all of his wounds, you knew that this applied to his entire body. Eric didn’t lack in size anywhere. However, you had heard of his flings, how he used women and then dropped them like nothing the next day, the butterflies vanished and you stood up fully, ignoring Eric’s questioning expression as you made your way to the door.

Perhaps sleeping in his bed wasn’t the best idea, you told yourself. You didn’t need to get involved with a patient, regardless of who it was, and you certainly didn’t need to get involved when he was going to toss you aside, anyway.

You got to your bed before you realized that tears had been streaking their way down your face.

* * *

 

It was your turn to not meet his eyes when you set to work. Soon he was going to be fine on his own, he wouldn’t be required to stay in his apartment, and you would be forgotten. You bit your cheek at the thought.

Your hands shook as you finished up binding his thigh, and suddenly his hand grabbed your wrist; his palm was large, warm, and calloused from work. You tried to pull your hand away, but he didn’t budge.

“You’re crying,” he stated, and you lift your free hand to your cheek, pulling your wet fingers away with shock at being caught crying in front of him again.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Eric—” 

“I said no,” he growled, and pulled you towards him. “Why are you crying?”

His voice wasn’t kind, and you shook your head, not wanting to tell him that your mind had been bothering you since last night, convincing yourself Eric didn’t care. He didn’t care, you told yourself again for the umpteenth time.

“Why does it matter to you?”

He didn’t reply for a second, staring at you before his eyes drifted down your face, following one of the tears dripping down your cheek. “It just does.”

“You’re just saying that,” you whispered, your voice thick as a lump formed in your throat. He scoffed and pulled you down, hands placing themselves on your cheeks, his thumbs working away your tears.

“I’m not just saying that,” he stated calmly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I promise.”

You stared at him for a long time, his face unchanging as he stared right back, his thumbs still moving over your cheeks. You finally took a deep breath through your nose, hands clasped together nervously. “I… I’m crying because I’m afraid you don’t care.”

His face darkened. “You think that I don’t care about you?” You nodded your head and he laughed. He _laughed_. Your eyes narrowed and you tried to bat his hands away, intent on returning to the bed downstairs.

Eric kept a firm hold of you and shook his head, his laughing ceasing as he gazed into your water-filled eyes. “I do care,” he said simply. “I would’ve gotten a different nurse a long time ago if I didn’t.”

Both of you held each other’s gaze, and you had yet to stop crying. “Now, will you stay here tonight?” He gave you his seventh smile, and you nodded your head, moving your hands to take his from your cheeks and rub your eyes.

He held you close after that, keeping you under the blanket and pressed against his warm bare skin. Food, you both decided, could wait a little longer.

* * *

 

He looked disappointed when he walked for the first time on his own since he had been in the explosion. When you asked him if something was wrong, or if he was hurt, he merely shook his head and asked if you could get him the paperwork Max had dropped off for the week.

You did as he asked, and he didn’t talk for the rest of the day, only stayed at his desk, focused on the arrays of paper in front of him. Any food you’d left for him was untouched, and you grew concerned quickly. He hardly attempted to communicate with you, and by the time you helped him into bed, you had had enough of it.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” 

“I will talk to you. I am right now.”

You shook your head. “You know what I mean. Why didn’t you talk to me today?”

He shrugged. “I was busy,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. You sat up, not pleased with his answer. 

“That’s a bullshit excuse.”

His eyes flashed to yours, dark with anger. “Excuse me?”

“I think you heard me,” you said. “I want to know what’s wrong, and you’re refusing to tell me.”

Eric’s voice was calm and controlled, with a tinge of iciness. “So you want to know why, huh?” He growled. “Fine. Now that I’m almost done recovering, you have to leave. I’m not going to get to wake up to you fussing over me anymore, and I’m not going to get to watch you get up in the morning with your hair sticking up in all directions anymore. I’m not going to be able to watch you get dressed in the morning anymore when all you’re focused on is getting coffee. I’m not going to be able to see you everyday anymore, or know that you’re safe in my home.”

He sat up abruptly, wincing slightly in pain. “I care about someone for once in my life and I don’t want you gone.”

You sat up more slowly, watching him as he stared at his lap, breathing hard through his nose. You kissed his cheek. “I care about, you, too, Big Guy.”

* * *

 

You stuck around after that. Eric’s apartment became yours. It was only a month after he had been released from bed rest that he had insisted you move in. It was pleasant seeing your things beside his in the closet, or in the dresser.

Eric gave you little hints that he cared for your well being, from getting you a new sketchbook when he found your collection of drawings in your apartment, to giving you your very own key to his apartment, which he had sheepishly smiled when he wrapped your fingers around it and stalked off to his meeting.

However, you decided the best hint was when he had slid a ring on your left ring finger, a single silver band with simple diamonds studded all the way around the ring. He didn’t ask you, just held out your hand, slipped it on, and looked up to you for approval, to which you had nodded with a grin, kissing his face until he shoved you off, eyes narrowed, but bright with happiness.

You didn’t have to tell each other you cared, you both knew, and that worked just fine when you pressed close at night, or held hands in the hallways.

To know he wanted to come home to your arms in the evening, and that he hated leaving the bed in the morning, always filled your body with warmth, your stomach fluttering, and whenever he stated simple facts like these, you couldn’t help but grin.

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face, or your stomach from rolling, when he kissed you firmly in front of your friends, sealing your bond with a kiss and blood as your hands stayed bound together in a cloth, the cuts you had made on each other’s skin pressed against each other as Tori announced you man and wife.

Eric even smiled, an actual smile, his white, straight teeth occasionally making an appearance. You made a mental note to thank your boss for assigning you to care for Eric a little over a year ago as he led you back down the aisle, whispering in your ear that he could assure you that consummation was going to be a million times better.


End file.
